


A Little Afternoon Experimentation

by bunbunjolras



Series: Progression [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, NSFW, Ruined Orgasms, obviously, okay wow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-20 01:07:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1491094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunbunjolras/pseuds/bunbunjolras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Interesting.”</p>
<p>Grantaire’s head snaps up when he hears Combeferre speak, looking up at him with equal parts terror and anticipation written across his face. </p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Once Combeferre gets an idea in his head, he always follows through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Afternoon Experimentation

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so, so sorry.

“Interesting.”

Grantaire’s head snaps up when he hears Combeferre speak, looking up at him with equal parts terror and anticipation written across his face. The word ‘Interesting’ is a bad one when it comes from Combeferre’s mouth, it means nothing good, and Grantaire freezes where he sits.

“What’s interesting?” he asks, closing his book in his lap. ‘Interesting’ meant Combeferre was going to devise a scene for them, and that it was going to be a little weirder than usual, like the incident with the laptop and the video call to Enjolras – he still doesn’t know how much of that is true. “What did I do now?”

“Nothing you did,” Combeferre murmurs from behind his screen. He sprawls across the sofa with his laptop resting on his belly, and Grantaire is leaning back against the sofa, close enough for Combeferre to reach out and run his fingers through his hair. “I’m watching porn.” 

Grantaire turns and – yes, Combeferre is watching porn with the sound off, and his fingers tangle in Grantaire’s hair sharply, forcing him to turn away from the screen. 

“I have a proposal,” Combeferre tells him, untangling his fingers and stroking his hair instead of tugging at it. “A scene.”

“Propose away,” Grantaire replies as he leans back far enough to look up at Combeferre, a slight smile on his face. “When for?”

“Now.” 

Grantaire turns a little to look at Combeferre more directly. “Like…right now, now? What do you have planned?”

“Yes, right now, now,” Combeferre laughs, twisting to kiss the crown of Grantaire’s head. “I want to conduct some experiments. I want to see how many times I can make you come, I want you to come until you can’t come anymore. I want to see what I can do to you to make you come, I want to see if you can come without a hand on your cock. That’ll be my first experiment.” 

“Any rules for the scene?”

“Only that when I ask for a status report now you tell me your colour first, before anything else, and if I think you’re moving too much I will have to bind your hands.”

“Bind my hands anyway. Please,” Grantaire adds hastily. “I don’t – my attention span feels like it’s going to be limited today so my self-control is also probably similarly useless.”

“Okay,” Combeferre murmurs as he sits up, hand coming away from Grantaire’s hair as he swivels in his seat to put his laptop down on the low coffee table. “Do you want to pick your rope?”

“The green one is fine,” Grantaire tells him as he gets to his feet, but Combeferre grabs his wrist and pulls him back, and he stumbles back until his legs bump against the sofa, and he only just somehow manages not to fall down. 

“I want you to sit here with me, baby,” Combeferre murmurs against his wrist as he pulls it up to his lips. “I want to sit here, where I’m sitting right now, right in the middle of the sofa, and I want to touch you until you beg me to stop.”

“But…rope,” Grantaire mutters. Combeferre gets to his feet and reaches into his pocket, pulling out the length of treated green rope, soft and gentle on Grantaire’s skin. “You were expecting this?”

“No, I just…hoped, I guess.” He slides his hands down Grantaire’s ribs carefully and wriggles them back up under his t-shirt lightly, leaning in for a quick kiss, one that turned quickly into something a bit more breathless and desperate and clinging, and Combeferre pulls back, Grantaire makes a distressed little noise in the back of his throat and follows after him, already missing the warmth and comfort of Combeferre’s lips against his own. “I want to push you pretty hard, love, and I need to know that you’ll be okay with it.”

“If it gets to be too much I’ll – I’ll safeword. I promise I’ll use it if I have to,” Grantaire insists, trying to press back in for another kiss, a little flustered and wanting and needy all of a sudden. If he could live on kisses and affection he would do nothing but this for the rest of his days. “Please kiss me again, ‘Ferre.”

“Call me Sir and I’ll consider it, baby,” Combeferre coos, leaning close again, close enough for his lips to brush the skin of Grantaire’s cheek, and Grantaire shivers as he closes his eyes. 

“Just one more kiss, Sir,” Grantaire mumbles, leaning against him a bit more but holding back from bringing his lips closer to Combeferre’s skin. “Please, Sir.”

“Take your shirt off so I can touch you more, and then I’ll kiss you again.” 

Grantaire rips his shirt off almost without hesitation and presses close to Combeferre again, pressing his nose into the other man’s cheek. “Please, sir,” he murmurs, his hands coming up to brush lightly against Combeferre’s shoulders. “Just one more.”

Combeferre sighs like he’s incredibly inconvenienced by it all but he indulges Grantaire by leaning in for another kiss, lips curling into a smile as he grips his lover’s hips and pulls him closer. He breaks away after just a few seconds and chuckles quietly as Grantaire whines and tries to follow after him again. 

“Just one more, he says,” Combeferre laughs. “One more is never enough, is it pet?”

“Unfortunately not,” Grantaire murmurs, and he sighs, dropping his head down onto Combeferre’s shoulder. “Where do you want me, Sir?”

Combeferre kisses his forehead gently as he thinks. “You sit on the sofa, love, and I’ll go fetch the ropes. Hands in front or behind? I don’t want you being naughty and touching yourself and ruining my data.”

“Behind, please,” Grantaire mumbles as he slips his pants and boxers off, hopping on one foot at a time as he struggles to get his socks off. He sits down on the sofa to wait, and he looks up at Combeferre when he comes back into the room, and he smiles. “Behind, hands behind.”

“Good,” Combeferre says, smiling indulgently as he crosses the room. He reaches the sofa and climbs into Grantaire’s lap, one knee pressed into the cushions either side of Grantaire’s hips. He reached behind his lover and slid his hands down his arms to his wrist, pushing his hands together. “Wrists or elbows? Or both? Remember you might be here a while, I don’t want to have to untie your halfway through.”

Grantaire leans forwards and presses his nose to Combeferre’s shoulder, humming contentedly as he tries to decide. “Wrists only, please. Crossed, not parallel.” 

“Okay,” Combeferre murmurs quietly as Grantaire begins to kiss his chest lightly, and he winds the rope around and between his wrists gently. The takes his time to make the bonds both secure and comfortable for Grantaire, not wanting him to get hurt or unduly uncomfortable while Combeferre indulges his curiosity. Once he’s done he settles more comfortably in Grantaire’s lap and kisses him quickly. “I love you, you know. I don’t know how you let me get away with all of this.” 

“I love you, and I love submitting, and I love sex, so why wouldn’t I want to do this? This is just as fun for me as it is for you, I promise.” Grantaire nuzzles into Combeferre’s shoulder as he speaks, keeping his arms entirely still until Combeferre tells him to test his bonds, and he flexes his arms and once he’s satisfied the ropes will hold he nods, confident. “Good to go, Captain,” he says with a broad grin. 

“You’re such a good boy,” Combeferre coos, pinching his cheek before he retreats. “What I’m going to do is I’m going to see how many times I can make you come, and how many different ways I can make you come. Understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And if you want me to stop just use your safeword, okay? Can you tell me what it is?”

“Coconut. I promise I’ll use it if I have to.”

“If you tell me to stop, do I have your permission to carry on until you safeword or give me any status update that isn’t green?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Don’t just say that to make me happy,” Combeferre warns as he settles down on his knees in front of Grantaire. “Be honest, baby.”

“I promise. You have my permission. If I feel like anything’s wrong I’ll use my safeword, I promise,” Grantaire murmurs, leaning into Combeferre’s hand on his cheek. 

“Good boy. There won’t be any discipline for you for any of this, I just expect you to sit still, tell me how you’re feeling when I ask, and tell me if anything feels strange. Oh, and keep your voice down, I don’t need my neighbours knowing I have a dirty slut in here.”

Grantaire’s eyebrows shoot up as Combeferre says that, but he nods and smiles a little as Combeferre kisses both of his knees. “I won’t embarrass you, Sir, I promise. I’ll keep quiet.”

“Good,” Combeferre tells him, placing his hands on Grantaire’s thighs and sliding them up towards his hips. 

Grantaire shifts as he expects Combeferre to touch his cock – not quite hard yet but getting there, they’ve been taking it easy today – but his hands slide up Grantaire’s waits, to his ribs and then Combeferre’s thumbs slide over Grantaire’s nipples, making his breath hitch. 

“I’ve always wondered if I can make you come like this. You’re so sensitive, baby, do you think I could make you come without putting my hands anywhere near your needy little cock?” he asks, moving his hands so as he can roll one of them between his fingers and press down hard on the other, making Grantaire make a soft noise, nodding slowly. “I think I can. I think I could probably train you to come on command.” 

Grantaire whimpers and shifts his hips just a little, his cock swelling from the attention, and he can’t take his eyes off of Combeferre as he talks and twists his sensitive nipples and pinches them and digs his nails into the soft flesh around them and leans forwards at intervals to nip at his throat gently. 

“Do you think I could, love? Do you think I could make it so as whenever I say something, some innocuous little word - your name, perhaps - you come in your pants like a horny teenager, like a needy little slut who can’t control himself?” 

“Yeah,” Grantaire breathes, his shoulders flexing as he tries to bring his hands forwards, to touch himself now that his cock is hard and distracting him from anything other than how Combeferre was touching him and how Grantaire wanted him to touch him. “You could, if anyone could it would be you.”

“Shall I tell you how I’ll do it?“ Combeferre asks as he leans forwards to run the flat of his tongue across one of Grantaire’s nipples, blowing cold air across it a moment after and watching him shiver. “Shall I tell you?”

“Yes please,” Grantaire moans quietly. He shifts his hips and his cock bobs obscenely as he does so, and Combeferre smiles against his chest. 

“I know how much you love edging, pet,” Combeferre says, drawling sarcastically as he leans back and returns to pinching and rolling and pressing and tugging at Grantaire’s nipples, first one and then the other. Grantaire hated edging – he didn’t have the self-restraint for it, didn’t have the will to resist the lure of an orgasm enough to tell his partner he was going to come, and if there was something he hated more than edging, it was being disobedient. “Gonna keep you on the edge until you’re crying and begging me. Get that old cock ring out and slip it on and tease you until your poor little cock is weeping more than you are, and push your right up to the edge and watch you writhe and beg and when you’re about to come I’ll say the word, that one little word I want to use to drive you wild, say it over and over again until you come and then I’ll do it all over again, again and again until your pretty little brain makes a connection between that word and the pleasure of coming. First it’ll happen that you’ll get hard when I say it, then you’ll be on the verge of coming, and then, eventually you’ll just…come in your pants whenever I say it. And I plan on saying it a lot.”

Graantaire moans and squirms where he sits, his cock ruddy now and leaking. “Ye-yeah,” he moans as Combeferre bites down on his collarbone. “What – what word would you use?”

“Something you hear every day, love,” Combeferre tells him, kissing up his neck to his chin but not pressing his lips to Grantaire’s, not just yet. “What if I did use your name? Whenever someone tries to get your attention in public your poor cock gets all hard and you can’t hide it from anyone, everyone will know what a slut you are, not just for me but for anyone that wants you, a filthy little whore who’ll open his mouth for anyone. Sound good?”

“Yes,” Grantaire whimpers. He shudders and takes a deep breath in, pressing up against Combeferre’s fingers hard. 

“Are you going to come soon, love? Give me a status update, please.”

“Ferre,” he gasps, rolling his hips up a little but not getting anywhere as Combeferre brings a hand down to his thighs to still him. “Ferre, I wanna – I want to come, don’t think I can, I have to come, please, please just touch my cock, please touch me, pl-”

“Colour first, then you can come, love.”

“Green, green, green,” Grantaire babbles, closing his eyes and slumping back on the couch and pushing his hips up into the air desperately, not coming into contact with anything but still trying anyway. “Please touch me, please.”

Combeferre tweaks his nipples again and smiles indulgently. “But I am touching you, love. I can’t touch your lovely cock because it’ll throw off the experiment. How about I keep pinching your poor little nipples – look, they’re all pink now – and talking for a few more minutes, and if you can come you can come, if not then I’ll move on to my next experiment.”

“What’s – what’s next?” he wheezes, breathless and whining and still moving his hips even though Combeferre is making no move to do anything other than flick his nipples and nip at his neck. 

“It’s a surprise, but I promise you’ll love it.”

 

“Please,” Grantaire whimpers. “Combeferre, please, just – I – please, please, please.” He whines and drops his head back onto the back of the sofa, his back arching and his wrists straining against the green rope. He’s so close, so close to coming, to losing his mind, to something he can’t describe, but without a hand on him, without a proper touch, he’s not going to get there. “Please just touch me, please, why won’t you touch me?”

“Hush, love,” Combeferre murmurs, doing nothing to soothe him other than leaning in and biting down hard – hard enough to draw a yelp and a stronger moan from Grantaire – on the soft flesh of his belly, hard enough to know it was going to bruise, and he can feel Grantaire’s muscles contract and hear his breathing hitch and he knows he’s about to come. He breathes in through his nose sharply and pulls away, sitting up so as he can catch Grantaire in a quick, hard kiss, sliding up onto the sofa as he does so until he’s sitting just close enough for his lover’s cock to press against his leg and Grantaire moves and writhes against him and cries and moans and comes as Combeferre does his best to hold him still, to keep him from moving finding too much relief against. He grins broadly as he pulls back from Grantaire, his hand sticky with come as he trails his fingers across his lover’s still hard cock, and Grantaire’s still squirming and panting and whining as he tries to push forwards, still not properly fulfilled, and he pulls against the ropes again. 

Grantaire looks a mess, eyes wide and his expression desperate, breathing so heavily through his nose that Combeferre thinks he might pass out. His face is flushed he looks wild where he strains against his ropes. 

“Calm down, love,” Combeferre coos. “Breathe deep, in through your nose and out through your mouth for me, please.” 

“No, I can’t,” Grantaire manages, still panting, dazed and pressing forwards against Combeferre as best he can. 

“Yes you can, I promise, it’s really easy,” Combeferre tells him, bringing his hands up to cup Grantaire’s face, making him look up at him, breathing in and out evenly as Grantaire looks at him, unfocussed eyes and red cheeks. “Just like me, love.” 

“It’s too much,” Grantaire tells him. “It’s – that was intense and too much and not enough all at once.”

Combeferre kisses him quiet quickly, bringing one hand down to Grantaire’s shoulder to push him back against the sofa. “That, my dear, is what we call a ruined orgasm,” Combeferre murmurs quietly, and Grantaire makes a short, distressed little noise. 

“I don’t – no, I don’t like that one,” he gasps as Combeferre starts to kiss his neck gently. “Please don’t do that again.”

“Noted. Status report please?”

Grantaire sniffs, still fidgeting and trying to push against Combeferre, his cock leaking again and shiny with come not cleaned off his lover’s fingers. “Green. Yeah, green,” he replies after a few moments. “You’re a meanie, you know”

“You don’t sound too sure about that green,” Combeferre says, coming to sit beside Grantaire, until they were sitting side by side, thighs pressed together, and he brings his hand up to Grantaire’s knee, squeezing gently. “I know I’m being mean. But you just tell me to stop and I’ll stop. Use your word, if you need to.”

Grantaire pouts petulantly and leans his head against Combeferre’s shoulder, sighing as he does so. “I would use it if I thought I needed to,” Grantaire told him. “But I don’t – no more of that, that ruined orgasm thing. Maybe as part of a denial scene but not – not like this.” 

“You’re such a good boy, darling,” Combeferre tells him, turning to kiss his temple gently. “Want to sit in my lap so I can jerk you off? Want to make you come properly this time.”

Grantaire smiles and nods enthusiastically, shuffling over a little, before twisting to try and decide how best to get up onto Combeferre’s thighs.

“Come here,” Combeferre says softly, patting his leg with one hand and hooking one arm around his waist to pull him over. “Gonna unbind your hands so you can lean back against my chest, like this.” 

Grantaire breathes more easily, now, and he sighs, content, as Combeferre unbinds his wrists and rubs the blood back into them slowly, before pulling his loved back against his chest. 

“Comfy,” Grantaire murmurs softly, as Combeferre’s hands come up to his waist and pull him back so Grantaire’s ass is pressed to Combeferre’s crotch. 

Combeferre’s fingers slip down until he can wrap them around Grantaire’s cock, and he gives it a few quick, firm strokes, and the dark haired man moans gratefully, sagging against Combeferre. 

“I don’t feel like I’m going to be able to last long,” Grantaire murmured, before sighing softly as Combeferre stroked his chest lightly. “Is that okay?”

Combeferre kissed his neck lightly. “More than okay, love. I’m going to keep going, though, after you come. I’ll give you a minute’s respite to come down a little, and then I’ll start again. Safeword or red and I’ll stop.” 

“M’kay,” Grantaire tells him, grinning as he leans back against Combeferre, laying one hand over the one his lover has on his chest. “Feels good.”

“Tell me exactly what you want.”

“Faster,” Grantaire responds immediately. “Please. Sir.”

Combeferre complies and moves his hand faster on Grantaire’s cock, his fingers still wrapped fairly loosely around it, and every time he reaches the top of a stroke his thumb swipes at the head of it, making Grantaire moan and buck up into his hand. 

“Tighter,” Grantaire tells him, and Combeferre obliges, drawing a gasp from Grantaire as each stroke is firmer, faster, better than before, and it doesn’t take more than a few minutes for Grantaire to come again, properly this time, gripping at Combeferre’s hand on his chest and moaning as he stroked him through it. It takes him a few moments to recover his breathe but he’s not shaking as badly this time, and instead of seeming wound up and tense he was calm and relaxed as he slumped back against Combeferre.

“You’re doing so well,” Combeferre murmurs into his ear as he presses a kiss to the line of his jaw. 

“Take a break?” Grantaire asked, his voice slurring slightly, and he yawned a moment later. “It’s not that I’m not liking this, it’s just – I wasn’t expecting a scene and I’m more tired than I thought I would be.”  
Combeferre hummed pleasantly and leaned forwards to kiss him on the cheek gently. “No worries, love,” he said, and shuffled about a bit to lie back on the sofa with Grantaire still pressed against his chest. The younger man turned a little and moved so as he was laying with his back pressed along the cushions of the sofa, his head tucked up underneath Combeferre’s chin. 

“We should get up,” Grantaire murmured eventually. “Do things. Wash.”

“No need. We’re about to receive a visitor, I think,” Combeferre murmured, twisting towards the door. 

Grantaire could just about hear footsteps, and when the door slammed open, and then closed, he realised that he was, in fact, very naked, and Enjolras looked furious as he stormed into the room, and Combeferre and Grantaire sat back up again, Grantaire clutching at a pillow he used to cover his crotch hastily. 

“Combeferre,” Enjolras barked, dropping his bag on the floor with a thud. “What the hell was that stunt with the webcam?”

Combeferre smirked and placed one hand on Grantaire’s leg, and used the other to pat the empty space on the sofa beside him. “An invitation.”


End file.
